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The journey back to Tumble Town was faster than the journey to Glimmergrove, mostly because the rulers were keen to go their separate ways rather than travel in the train of carriages from which they had arrived. Jimmy shared the same sentiments as the others and took his carriage back with his advisers and his belongings.
It was awkward, to say the least. Nobody wanted to speak, to shatter the silence and put their thoughts into words. It was clear what they all thought, and it was something along the lines of: what the hell were you thinking back there, pouncing and attacking fWhip like some savage animal? And the answer was plain: because I wanted to hit him. His inhibitions had taken a back seat, his impulses were at the forefront of his mind and all he could see at the time was red.
The silence was sustained throughout the duration of the entire journey, and remained even when they had arrived back home.
He was greeted by a small group of residents that led him to the tavern for drinks and a meal. He couldn't even resist them; they took one look at him and collectively decided he could do with a meal, a drink, a shower, everything. They had hardly left him alone, constantly asking if he wanted this or that. Each time he responded with no.
They were just trying to look out for him, he knew that, but it just felt... annoying. He didn't need a hundred worried parents fretting about him every time he sneezed or had a trace of bags under his eyes.
He managed to get away from his people and safely to the confines of his room. His bed creaked when he sat down on it. Norman darted out to nuzzle his foot, purring and rubbing his head up and down his trousers and getting hair all over them. Jimmy reached down to stroke his cat, which elicited another round of pleased purring. He chuckled, then looked around. He picked up a cigarette and stared at it.
"I won't!" he yelled, raising his hands in surrender. "I promise. I quit those things ages ago."
"Then why do you still have them?"
He looked down at the floor in shame. "I don't know."
Jimmy considered it, then sighed and dropped it to the ground and crushed it under his foot. He suppressed the twist in his stomach at doing so, the familiarity of the action, and lay back down on his bed to stare up at the ceiling.
"I can't even describe what's happening, Norman," he said. "It all just feels so weird." This time a month or so ago he was just dealing with a few barbs and teases about being a toy. It wasn't pleasant, but it was bearable and his empire remained safe. If fighting back harshly meant threat of war, then he'd endure it all.
He couldn't let his people get hurt.
But look at where that left him. Alone. Accused of poisoning people and setting explosives, and thrown into a war. Unless he developed godly powers overnight, there was no way his empire alone could take on Stratos, Goblands and Animalia. Especially not all three at once. And hell, there'd probably be more people on that side than his. They had the numbers and resources and strength to back them. What did he have?
Bombs, a voice in his head told him. Lots and lots of them.
A few bombs wouldn't have much of an impact. Some damage caused, lives lost, but the war would not stop for that. It would plough on and shatter everything he had built until it was just sand to be blown away by the wind.
He was just a mere blip in the history books. And Tumble Town would be, too.
It might've been something in those potions they'd given him, but his body was soon overcome by a crashing fatigue. "G'night," he muttered, curling up into the foetal position. His eyes fell shut and his mind drifted away from thoughts of war.
---
He blinked the remnants of sleep out of his eyes, but his vision remained blurry. Groaning, he attempted to sit up, only to find his body tied down to the bed by thick leather straps. Jimmy strained against them, rubbing his bare skin against the material and hissed in pain. He stopped.
Looming over the side of the bed was a peculiar creature. Short, with skin made of felt and fabric stitched together clumsily. A few pieces of felt were peeling away and swaying in the air. It had two large black buttons instead of eyes and a mouth stitched into a smile. Its hair was a clump of bright orange felt and two comically large, droopy ears bobbed up and down with each subtle upwards and downwards incline of the head. The clothes of the creature seemed identical to that of fWhip's.
Next to the creature was a taller one pretty much the same, only wearing a toga with gold clasps and a laurel crown in its brown hair, a thick beard on its chin.
Finally, there was a creature of medium height between the two with a tail curled around its ankle and two cat ears sticking out from pink hair. There was a mask on its face in an identical expression to the other two creatures. It wore the same clothes as Lizzie, and was roughly her height as well.
"Silly little toy," the one resembling fWhip taunted. "Look what he's done!"
His heart raced in his chest, banging against his ribs in a desperate attempt to break free. His palms were soaked with sweat. He tried to force air into his lungs, to breathe, but none would come. Jimmy lay there as the three creatures watched, his throat burning and his chest tightening.
So many people got hurt. All because of you." The one that looked like Lizzie said. It bent down, face near his, and giggled. "How does it feel? Knowing that your ego and inability to roll over will eradicate your people and everything you built? I bet it's crushing." On that last word, Jimmy's chest tightened even more. What little air in his lungs he had was abruptly knocked out and he wheezed in pain.
The creatures looked down at him with those grins, those beady eyes staring into his soul, so confident in their righteousness. So sure that he was small and pathetic.
He was. Tied to his own bed, unable to breathe, gasping for air as they watched him feebly struggling. Maybe if he stopped struggling and gave in, the pain would stop. He'd be able to breathe, to not be confined. It would be easier for him if he just gave up.
What point was there to fighting back? All it got was bloodshed and pain where it could have all been avoided.
Jimmy, in their eyes, was an ant to squash under their heels. If being squashed meant saving the people he cared about, he could take the hit. That was the right thing to do.
A fist collided with his stomach. Jimmy's body lurched against the restraints, then fell back down. The creature that resembled Joel pressed down where his blow had landed, all whilst maintaining eye contact with Jimmy. His eyes held no sign of sentience or life. Just black buttons. If he looked close enough he could see the white thread used to secure the buttons in place.
"Weakling," The Joel-looking creature laughed. "Little Jimmy's gotten all wound up!" It cackled obnoxiously. Jimmy cried out as his back was yanked harshly by some kind of cord. He coughed, flecks of blood landing on the creature's body and his clothes. The cord was pulled again, and more blood followed. It dribbled over his lip with each pained pant, dripping against his chest rhythmically.
"A fun toy for us to play with." The creature that looked like Lizzie said in a giddy tone.
The cord was tugged again, even harder. He couldn't think. All he could pay attention to was the absence of air in his lungs and blood gathering in his mouth, the coppery taste slathered across his tongue.
Fight them, a voice told him. It sounded familiar, light and gentle yet loaded with power. Show them you're not to be messed with.
There was no point. All that would do was get him in trouble and cause more damage than was necessary. He'd get so many people hurt because he dared fight them. He stood up to them once, and look what that got him: a war he had no chance of winning.
Their deaths will not be your fault. Fight back.
He thought about that. The war had been initiated by fWhip, Lizzie, and Joel, so technically the voice wasn't wrong. But they only wanted a war in the first place because he didn't do what they wanted. He didn't break under their teasing, nor did he let them get away with it when they stole his gunpowder and explosives from right under his nose.
Because they weren't expecting it. Or they had, but not to this extent.
Fight back.
The straps holding him down snapped. Jimmy lurched up into a sitting position and heaved a breath, delight racing through him when he could finally breathe again. He took a few seconds to compose himself, then turned to the creatures.
They seemed almost shocked by his sudden freedom. They stood their ground firmly, watching him the same way they had before, but there was almost something different about them that he couldn't identify. His veins flooded with pride.
They were scared. Of him.
He grinned, and each one of them let one foot edge backwards.
Without warning, Jimmy jumped off his bed and leapt onto the one that looked like Joel, his hands around the creature's neck and squeezing. It wheezed and rasped, hands clawing weakly at his, then its face melted and vanished in a poof of smoke. A smile curled at his lips, and he turned to the other two. They were looking at him warily and beginning to back away.
He pounced. Gone was the civil man upholding the law. Gone was the man trying to get by without another comment, another remark at his expense. Gone was the pretence and pleasantries.
He pounced, and he tore them apart.
It was a funny feeling. Their 'skin' just fell apart under his touch. The slightest movement of his hand would have a chunk of them peeled away in an instant. They screamed in agony, but no blood came out like it would for a human. There was just more felt inside them to compose their organ systems. He took delight in unravelling their intestines, squeezing them and pinching. He would take out anything but the vital organs.
"Why haven't you two died yet?" he growled, pulling out a kidney. The action elicited a scream, followed by ragged pants, but the bodies didn't disappear.
A hand landed on his shoulder. Another on his chin, gently lifting his head. The world around him fell apart in a flurry of butterflies of blues and pinks and yellows and all sorts of colours he never thought existed.
"You're okay," that voice from before assured him. "I've got you."
He couldn't see who it was. He could feel their body pressed against his, the hands leaving him only for two arms to wrap around him and hold him gently. His face rested against someone's shoulder. Breathing in, he could smell sheep and flowers and all sorts of strange smells clinging to the invisible person.
The person pulled back to look at him - or so he thought - and chuckled. It was a musical sound. He wanted to hear it again. "You really got into it, huh?" They remarked.
"Some of it's mine," he said, eyes flickering down to the blood on his chest then back up at what he hoped was the person's face. The air rippled, and he almost caught a glimpse of a face before it vanished. "I think."
Two hands cupped his cheeks. "As long as you're alright. You still have things to do, you know." He felt something warm and soft brush against his lips, then he fell back into nothing.
---
When Jimmy awoke, he thought nothing of the dream he'd just had. He could still feel the fabric under his fingers as he ripped those creatures to pieces and the warmth on his lips.
One of his advisers fell into step beside him as they traversed the mesa. Nobody was out there, making it the perfect place to talk without any outsiders listening in. Plus, there was nowhere to hide without being spotted, not unless someone had a potion of invisibility with them, and those weren't the easiest to make. So the open mesa was safe. For now, at least.
The sun was already a fair way through its journey, almost reaching the midpoint. Clouds drifted by lazily, darker in some parts and lighter in others. Hopefully it would some rain soon. They could use some rain right around now.
He could almost see the barracks already. The sound of arrows hitting wood, the ground, and flesh. Swords colliding and screams and shouts as the battlefield descended into chaos.
"Sheriff?" His adviser said, gently nudging him. "Are you okay?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine." His hand itched at his side as an awkward silence fell upon them, filled only by their footsteps and the whistling wind. "I assume you've heard the news already."
His adviser grew visibly uncomfortable. "I have."
"Then you know what I'm about to ask of you."
The adviser nodded. "I'm afraid so." They let out a sharp exhale and met his eyes. "When shall we start the preparations?"
He paused to think then answered: "Preferably today or tomorrow. I don't know when they'll strike, so we should start as early as we possibly can." Jimmy placed his hand on his adviser's shoulder. "I need to find out who will be supporting us in the war. If you see anyone from Chromia around, assume they are neutral. Anyone from the Goblands, Animalia or Stratos are to be either kept clear of or disarmed immediately. No exceptions. Any unwarranted visitors will be sent home. Do you understand?"
"I do."
He relaxed and removed his hand from his adviser's shoulder, then cleared his throat. "We need to be ready now." He cast a glance at the sky and couldn't help but crack a smile. On a day like this, he could almost forget about his problems. It was too nice of a day to be worrying about war and such. Yet here he was.
His adviser altered their course to bring them back to Tumble Town early. He didn't comment on it, only half-listening as they talked as he instead looked at his surroundings. So much would be destroyed soon. He needed to soak up as much of it as possible.
They arrived back at Tumble Town, and his adviser quickly departed. Jimmy retreated away from prying eyes to the comfort of his room. He sat himself at his desk, parchments laid out in front of him alongside an inkwell and quill. Norman nuzzled his head against Jimmy's leg, letting out a content purr. Reaching down, he scratched the cat's head, smiling. After a moment he retracted his hand and rested it on the desk.
Jimmy dipped the tip of the quill into the inkwell, and began to write.